


Sherlock's Return

by sabrielrocks13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, M/M, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrielrocks13/pseuds/sabrielrocks13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been dead for 3 years and John has retreated into their flat living in isolation until Sherlock come back. Can John forgive him for the past 3 years? and can they finally admit their feelings for each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd all mistakes are mine. This is my first fic so hope you guys like it.

Sherlock’s Return  
I sat in my chair, like always, staring at Sherlock’s empty chair. It had been 3 years since the roof of St. Bart’s. I still couldn’t bring myself to get rid of Sherlock’s stuff. Mrs. Hudson had understood and stopped pestering me about it long ago. I sipped my tea, grimacing when I realized it was cold.  
I grabbed my can and heaved myself up to make another. My therapist said the limp came back due to shock and that once I accepted that Sherlock was gone it would go away again. I had walked out and refused to return. I couldn’t get over Sherlock or accept that he was gone, because who was I without Sherlock? Just an ex-army doctor with PTSD, a psychosomatic limp, and an adrenaline junkie. I need Sherlock.  
I sighed and limped into the kitchen, quietly going through the motions of making a cuppa, not really paying attention to what I was doing, my mind filled with thoughts of Sherlock like it generally was. I looked out of the window and noticed it was raining. Not that it bothered me at all. I never left the flat anymore. It was too difficult to walk around and act like I was fine, like losing Sherlock hadn’t completely crushed me.  
Mycroft ensured that the rent was continuously paid and had groceries delivered every week. Probably to alleviate his guilt of the role he played in Sherlock’s death. It didn’t have any importance to me, made it easier to hide away. Just as the kettle went off I heard a knock on the door.  
I frowned wondering who it could be. Mycroft’s guy had just brought groceries over yesterday, Lestrade hadn’t been by in months having given up on getting me out of the flat, and Mrs. Hudson just let herself in. The knock came again so I took the kettle off the stove and grabbed my cane and slowly limped my way to the door wondering idly if it was one of Moriarty’s men come to kill me.  
I opened the door and my jaw dropped in shock, Sherlock was standing in front of me. Dark curly hair slightly damp from the rain, pale skin, piercing eyes, sharp cheekbones, even the scarf and belstaff coat. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him afraid he would disappear if I looked away for even a moment. I noticed he seemed thinner and had a small scar on his right temple. Then he spoke,  
“Hello John.”  
“Sherlock.” I choked out, “but… but your dead.”  
“I faked it John. I had to.” White hot anger suddenly surged through me and before I had even consciously decided to do it I brought my fist back and swung it forward as hard as I could, punching Sherlock in the face. He grabbed the doorjamb to keep himself standing and brought his free hand up, holding his cheek, and seemed to brace himself for another hit. Instead I grabbed a handful of his coat and pulled him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. I let go of him and growled,  
“Explain.”  
“Moriarty had snipers on you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. If I didn’t jump they had orders to kill you.”  
“Alright fine but why not come back until now? It’s been 3 bloody years Sherlock!” I said my anger only slightly abated.  
“I couldn’t, not until I could ensure your safety. I have spent the last 3 years tracking down all the members of Moriarty’s web, slowly dismantling them.”  
“And you didn’t think that maybe I could have helped?” Hurt lacing my words as I stared at Sherlock.  
“I couldn’t rick it John.” Sherlock said his piercing grey-blue eyes begging me to believe him, his face showing how earnest he was. “The snipers were still on you. It they had any reason to believe I was still alive they were to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen John.” I stared at Sherlock trying to process everything.  
I could tell he wasn’t lying and that he was afraid. All my previous anger left me leaving nothing but joy behind. How many times had I wished for this? For Sherlock to be alive and to come back to me? Now he was here and I couldn’t stand to stay angry with him. I continued to stare at Sherlock not knowing what to say so I did the only thing I could.  
I grabbed his jacket with both hands, my cane falling to the ground forgotten, and pulled him to me, crushing our lips together. Sherlock froze in shock for a moment before he responded. I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against him as his tongue demanded entrance to my mouth. I granted it, moaning slightly when his tongue entered my mouth tangling with mine. My hands slid up his sides and tangled my fingers in his hair.  
I felt him push me back until my back hit the wall. He pressed his body up against mine until there was no space between us. My trousers started to become slightly uncomfortable and Sherlock kissed me hungrily, mapping out my mouth and nipping my lower lip. I could feel Sherlock’s answering hardness against me and moaned again before wrenching my mouth from Sherlock’s and panting for much needed air.  
Sherlock’s lips immediately fell to my neck and I whimpered as he began to suck, bite, and lick his way down it to the collar of my jumper.  
“Sherlock” I gasped trying to think through the heat of arousal clouding my mind. “Sherlock.” I said again tugging his hair slightly causing him to moan into my neck, “bed, bed Sherlock.” I finally managed to gasp out. Sherlock pulled away from my neck and looked me in the eye. I noticed his pupils were completely dilated completely obscuring the color of his eyes.  
“Are you sure John?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock nodded then grabbed my hand and pulled me to his bedroom. When we entered it he froze for a split- second, obviously surprised to find his room completely unchanged. I just tugged him over to the bed and kissed him again. I quickly removed his scarf and coat before moving onto his shift, undoing the buttons on it as fast as my shaking hands would allow before giving up and just ripping the last couple off in frustration. I pushed the garment off of Sherlock’s shoulder so it could slide down his arms and onto the floor while my hands began exploring his torso.  
I pinched his nipple slightly and was rewarded with a loud moan that I swallowed up. I wanted to commit everything to memory, just in case this was the only time I got to have this. I felt Sherlock’s hands start to pull at my jumper impatiently, obviously wanting it off. I broke our kiss so that I could pull it over my head along with the t-shirt I had underneath it and threw them both away, not caring where they landed.  
All I did care about was having Sherlock’s lips back on mine as he pushed me back until my legs hit the bed and I fell backwards onto it. Sherlock stayed standing, looking down at me. I knew he was cataloging all the new data as his eyes raked all over me. He pushed my knees apart and slid between them before leaning down and kissed my chest. I groaned and arched up into him trying to feel more of him against me.  
He continued kissing down my chest stopping briefly at my nipples to suck and nip on them until they were red and pointed before continuing on his path. He thrust his tongue into my belly button a couple times before he started on sucking at the skin just below it ensuring that there would be a dark purple mark there.  
“Sherlock” I groaned unable to take anymore teasing.  
“Yes John?” Sherlock said his voice deep and gravelly with arousal.  
“Please Sherlock… I… I need you in me. Now.” I said raising myself up onto my elbows to look down my body at him. Sherlock smiled at me, his true smile that he never seemed to give anyone but me. He leaned up and kissed me swiftly before leaning back and unbuttoning my trousers and pulling them and my pants down together leaving me completely naked. I groaned in relief at the pressure being removed from y hard cock before watching Sherlock’s slender fingers go to his own trousers and quickly undo them. I slid back until my head reached the pillows and Sherlock shed the rest of his clothes.  
My eyes scanned down his body taking in all the revealed skin before settling on his cock. I licked my lips thinking of how it would feel to have it in my mouth before I dragged my eyes back up and met Sherlock’s. I held out my hand and spread my legs invitingly. He took my hand as he climbed onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he settled between my thighs. We both moaned at the feel of our hard cocks rubbing together. I grabbed Sherlock around the back of his neck and pulled him down to my lips kissing him again.  
I heard him rummage around in the night stand before he pulled away and showed me the bottle of lube he had pulled out.  
“Are you sure John?” He asked again searching my face for any sign that I didn’t want this. I knew he wouldn’t find any though. I had wanted this since I first met him but had contended myself with just being his friend, but no way was I giving this up now that I had it.  
“Yes Sherlock. Please I want you.” I responded kissing him again. He kissed him back for a moment before sitting back on his knees and opening the lube bottle. He coated three of his fingers before setting the lube aside and reaching down going past my balls and circling my hole with his finger. I forced my muscle to relax and he began to inch his finger inside of me.  
He stretched me slowly, attempting to keep the pain as minimal as possible. After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes he was up to 3 fingers. I had just opened my mouth to tell him I was ready when he crooked his fingers unexpectedly and brushed my prostate. I groaned loudly while arching off the bed trying to thrust down on his fingers and get him to brush that spot again.  
Sherlock continued to abuse my prostate, fucking me with his fingers, and any other time I’d be embarrassed about the noises I was making but I couldn’t find it in myself to care right now. Finally, I couldn’t take any more and gasped out,  
“Sherlock please I’m ready please.” I wanted to feel him in me, filling me up and chasing away the emptiness I had felt these past 3 years, letting me know this wasn’t a dream that I wasn’t going to wake up alone again. Sherlock slowly pulled his fingers free and I held back a groan at the empty feeling knowing it wouldn’t last as Sherlock picked up the lube again and squirted some on his hand before throwing it away.  
He then lubed up his cock, wiping the excess on the bed-sheets before he leaned over me placing one hand next to my head and using the other to guide his cock to my hole. I forced myself to stay relaxed as he slowly began to push in. Once he was buried to the hilt he held still, letting me adjust. It took me a minute to get use to the stretch but then I thrust my hips and grunted,  
“Move.” Sherlock pulled out slowly before thrusting back in. I groaned and moved my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Sweat began to build up on both of us as Sherlock grabbed my hand and linked our fingers together. He lent down and began to bite and suck on my chest neck, leaving behind several love bites. I wrapped my legs around his waist causing him to go deeper inside of me.  
I was quickly approaching my orgasm, unable to hold back.  
“Ugh, faster Sherlock… harder.” Sherlock obeyed speeding up his thrusts, effectively pounding me into the mattress. He hit my prostate on every other thrusts and I stuttered out  
“I’m close Sherlock.” He leaned down so his lips were right next to my ear and said,  
“Cum John. Cum for me.” And I did. I arched up off the bed and covered both our chest in stripes of white, screaming Sherlock’s name. Despite my high I felt Sherlock shudder above me before his cum filled me up and he moaned my name, collapsing on top of me.  
Neither one of us attempted to move as we tried to get our breaths back. Once I was able to move again I began to run the hand that Sherlock wasn’t holding through his damp curls content to lay there under him. Though there was one thing I still needed to tell him.  
“I love you Sherlock.” His head jerked up so fast I thought he might have whiplash. I could see him searching my face for any sign that what I said was because of post coital bliss and when he didn’t see any a huge smile lit up his face.  
“I love you too John.” I smile widely back before he lifted up to gently pull out of me. I groaned at the loss before Sherlock laid down next to me, his head pillowed on my chest, his arm and leg thrown possessively over me. I wrapped my arms around him and just listened to him breath, letting it lull me to sleep. We could talk more tomorrow, right now I was just happy to have him in my arms.


End file.
